Forgotten, But Not Gone
by OkonoMiyagi
Summary: <html><head></head>That's Professor Oak's last Pokémon! But would he let you take it anyway? One-shot.</html>


**Forgotten, But Not Gone**

Professor Oak laid out the three Poké Balls on a table in his lab, patiently awaiting the arrival of two very eager trainers-to-be—freshly-caught starter Pokémon to be carried off in just a matter of minutes.

_There, that ought to do it, _the old man thought to himself, fixing a sign near one of the balls. _Another year, another two trainers ready to set off from this sleepy town…_

His work complete at the table, he retreated to his desk, fetching a pen and paper, and began to write:

_Eagerly waiting_

_Two trainers, two Pokémon…_

…_perhaps good partners?_

There was no reason to doubt that two of these Pokémon would be in good hands—one set of those hands belonged to his grandson, after all, and he would've failed as a grandfather if he hadn't taught his grandson how to handle Pokémon properly.

The sound of a door opening downstairs interrupted the man's thoughts.

"Ah, there they are…"

* * *

><p>Forty minutes (and a Pokémon scuffle that the two boys called a battle) later, the lab was quiet again, the young boys' voices nothing more than an echo off the old man's walls.<p>

Predictably, his grandson had wanted an early advantage over his rival, so it was no surprise to the old man that his impetuous grandson had chosen Squirtle over his rival's Charmander. The old man smirked when the Charmander emerged victorious—_that'll teach him to be more careful,_ he thought bemusedly.

When the boys had left, he turned back to the table, and the lone Poké Ball still sitting on it. A picture of a playful Bulbasaur appeared to look him in the face, and the old man sighed. He tucked the other two pictures, now standing next to empty space, into his desk drawer, and made his way to the stairs to the basement.

_Maybe next year, Bulbasaur_, he muttered. The man turned out the light and descended deeper into his laboratory; there was important research he still had to do.

Hours later, when the room fell dark, the lone Poké Ball twitched atop the table for all of about three seconds before the room was filled with a bright light and the familiar sound of a Poké Ball cracking open resounded off the walls.

The young blue dinosaur yawned and blinked, getting acclimated to the darkness of the room.

"Bulba?" it called.

Bulbasaur rocked its head from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of his playmates, but its eyes caught nothing but empty space.

"Saaaaauuuuur…" it whined. With no signs of life anywhere in the lab, the grass Pokémon solemnly tiptoed over to its Poké Ball and nudged the button with its nose, disappearing back into the ball in a flash of red light.

* * *

><p>Months passed. Oak's grandson—what was his name again, Blue?—would often stop by, coincidentally, at the same time his rival, Red, would drop in to get his Pokédex evaluated. Several other trainers had stopped in since those two set off to receive their starter Pokémon, but they continually snubbed the grass-type, leaving its Poké Ball on the same table where Professor Oak had set it out several months ago.<p>

_Oh dear…_ the Professor thought as he spotted the metal sphere one day, and ran to fetch a dust cloth.

_You've been here for so long…it doesn't do you any good to be here all this time, I know…_

He took the ball back to his desk, absentmindedly dusting it off as he fetched another piece of paper and a pen.

_Alone in its ball_

_Passed up by novice trainers_

_Quite strange, isn't it?_

He heard a knock at the door, jolting him from his solemn reverie and out of his chair. Upon descending the stairs, the old man was greeted by a familiar face.

"Ah, Red! Good to see you again."

"Hello Professor."

"How is your Pokédex coming? Here, let me take a look…"

The boy handed the Professor his Pokédex. As the old man fiddled with the buttons to find the screen he wanted, the boy's gaze fell on the lone Poké Ball sitting on the Professor's desk.

_That's Professor Oak's last Pokémon…!_

"…Hoho! This is turning into quite the respectable Pokédex!" the Professor beamed, handing Red back the slim red device.

"…um, Professor, can I ask you something?" Red asked sheepishly.

"Why, anything, my boy!"

"I've noticed that Bulbasaur has been there ever since I left on my journey," he said, pointing to the Poké Ball, "and I was wondering…why haven't you given it to anybody?"

The Professor sighed as he glanced back over to the single Poké Ball he had just dusted.

"I don't know, Red. You're right; that Bulbasaur has been there ever since you started your journey. But I've had several new trainers choose starter Pokémon, and nobody ever wants that one! I guess when you and Blue left, you started a movement," the old man chuckled.

"You haven't thought about giving it to anybody?" Red asked in earnest.

"Well, truthfully no," the Professor replied, "if only because I'm holding out a tiny bit of hope that some upstarting trainer will choose a grass-type starter. It'll only be a matter of time, Red."

They were both startled when the familiar sound of a deploying Poké Ball rang through the laboratory.

"What in the world—!" the Professor yelped. The light died down, revealing a small blue dinosaur with a bulb on its back, appearing to wake up from a nap.

"Saaaauuuuuuur…" the Pokémon yawned. As it stood on its haunches, adjusting to its surroundings, its eyes fixated on the young boy standing in front of the old man.

Oak sighed sadly. He had been so caught up in his research that he couldn't remember the last time he had let that poor Bulbasaur out of its ball. Considering nobody had taken it as a starter since Red and Blue set out on their journey, it had to have been at least six months. Six months in a cold, metallic, dark sphere, with virtually no concept of what had been going on in the world around it since.

"Bulba…" it whined, reaching for the boy, soon losing its balance and falling on its back. The boy quickly rushed to its side and set it upright before it could burst out crying, and caught its pitiful gaze.

As a lump began to form in his throat, he soon wished he hadn't.

Red was back at the Professor's lab a few years later, getting his Pokédex evaluated one last time. He had scoured the world several times over, catching as many Pokémon as he could throw a Poké Ball at, trading with countless individuals, and had ultimately filled his Pokédex.

Or, he would have, were it not for three gaping holes.

"I have nothing left to say! You're the Pokémon authority now!" Oak said heartily, clapping the young man on the back as he handed him his Pokédex back. "This is magnificent! Well done!"

As Red accepted the device back from the Professor, his eyes fell on the table to his right, and the lone Poké Ball that still rested on top. A small picture of a playful Bulbasaur stared him back in the face.

_It's been here all this time, hasn't it?_

"Is something troubling you, Red?" the Professor asked.

The boy swallowed. "Actually, Professor, yeah. That Bulbasaur…you still haven't given it to anybody?" he said, pointing to the ball on the table.

"…no, my boy, I'm afraid not. Charmander and Squirtle have been flying out of my hands like they're going out of style, but not one new trainer has taken a Bulbasaur in years."

"You see, Professor, I've actually been quite curious about the Bulbasaur line recently, and the fact that I haven't met a single Bulbasaur trainer only piqued my curiosity," Red said, "so I was wondering…could I take it?"

Oak furrowed his brow.

"Well, Red, that Bulbasaur, as you know, was intended to be a starter Pokémon…I'd hate for you to take someone's potential starter, you know?"

Red frowned. He opened his Pokédex once again and showed the Professor the Kanto regional list. The entire list was filled, Poké Ball icons and all, save for three spots.

Numbers one, two, and three were completely blank.

"Well, isn't that unusual…" Oak muttered. "So it's true, then? You haven't met a single person with a Bulbasaur out there?"

"No sir."

The old man sighed. "I keep holding out hope that some young, upstarting trainer would finally come to her senses and take Bulbasaur as her own…but then again, it's been too long since anyone's taken one, so I suppose it can't hurt…"

"You mean it?!"

As if on cue, the ball burst open, and the Bulbasaur landed directly at Red's feet, snuggling his leg.

"Well well!" the professor chuckled. "It must've taken a liking to you the last time you were here, Red!"

Red looked down at the small creature that was tugging at his leg affectionately, smiling. He reached down and patted it on the head, earning a contented growl from the Pokémon.

"Go on. It's yours," Oak said, handing Red the ball. The boy quickly recalled the Pokémon and gleefully sped out of the lab after bidding the old man farewell.

When the lab fell quiet once again, Professor Oak went back to his desk and pulled out one more sheet of paper, and composed one more poem before retreating to his research facility.

_Always forgotten_

_But never gone; Bulbasaur_

_Has a home, at last_


End file.
